


Learning to Bear It

by Zelofheda



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-24 18:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4931425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelofheda/pseuds/Zelofheda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Matt is kidnapped and held as a hostage with a demand for Daredevil to give himself up, Foggy calls the two people he thinks can help him find his friend -- his parents.  Because they're shapeshifters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hello, Uncle Foggy,” said the little boy at Foggy’s feet. Foggy glanced down at his nephew with a smile, trying not to show that he wished he were anywhere but here. He loved his family, but there were certain aspects of family reunions that he could definitely live without. Still, it wasn’t the kid’s fault ... and maybe nothing would happen to-day.

“Hey, Jayden,” Foggy said. “How’s it going? Are you in school yet?”

“I can turn into a squirrel,” Jayden announced. 

“That’s great,” Foggy said, groaning inwardly and trying to sound sincere while glancing around the room, hoping nobody else would encourage the boy. His parents were still talking to his sister Candace and her husband Chris, and Jayden’s statement seemed to have gone unnoticed, so Foggy tried to change the subject. “What’s your favourite tv show?”

“Grandma, Grandpa, I’m going to turn into a squirrel now! Watch me turn into a squirrel, everybody!” Jayden cried. He closed his eyes, scrunched up his face, and a moment later, his body shimmered, dissolved, then resolved itself from head to toe into a grey squirrel. He raced around the room a few times and even tried using his claws to climb Foggy’s leg. Foggy grimaced as they sank through his suit pants into his skin, but before he could catch the squirrel, it had reached his knee and jumped off again. Once on the floor, the squirrel turned back into a boy.

“Didja see? I’m a great squirrel, right?” Jayden asked.

“That was really good,” Foggy’s mother announced, clapping delightedly. Even Foggy’s father nodded approvingly.

“I can see I’d better not act like a nut when you’re around,” Foggy said.

All the adults laughed, but the humour went completely over the boy’s head. “Dad said he’s going to teach me to become a bird next. Maybe a magpie!”

Emma, Jayden’s older sister, who had been hanging around her mother the whole time, suddenly marched over and announced, “Dad says I’m a magpie already!”

“Your dad says that?” Foggy asked, and his brother-in-law Chris interrupted his own conversation to explain why.

“She’s always taking the shiny objects out of my wallet, that’s why!” Chris announced, and everybody laughed again.

“I learned how to be a squirrel two years ago,” Emma said. “Now I’m working on shifting into a hedgehog!”

“Hedgehog?” Foggy replied. Hedgehogs were rare in the Nelson clan. Maybe she’d got it from her father, who came from another shapeshifting clan. Foggy glanced over to his parents and watched them beam proudly at their grandchild. Feeling the familiar twinge of disappointment, Foggy tried to bolster himself up by remembering that he was a lawyer with a good practice and good money. Or at least there would be good money soon. There _had_ to be good money soon.

“I saw hedgehogs on tv! They’re so cute!” Emma replied, and then she asked the question that Foggy had been dreading ever since he’d arrived and discovered his sister there with her family. “Uncle Foggy, Mom told us that you can turn into a bear.”

Foggy sighed, then leaned down close and pulled out his most menacing whisper. “That’s right. A hedgehog-eating bear!”

Emma shrieked and ran away to her mother for reassurance that bears did not eat hedgehogs, and that Uncle Foggy would never hurt his precious niece, and Foggy took the opportunity to stand up and wander into the kitchen. He wasn’t particularly hungry after supper, but finding a cookie was a good excuse to get away from the subject of shapeshifting. Unfortunately, he turned around from the cookie jar to see that Emma and Jayden had followed him.

“Can you really turn into a bear, Uncle Foggy?” Jayden asked.

“Um, yeah,” Foggy admitted. “Hey, you guys want a cookie?”

Emma shook her head. “Show us!”

Foggy picked up the cookie jar and made a show of waving it around, then opened it and shook the contents invitingly. Emma and Jayden both shook their heads, and Emma said, “Not the cookie jar! The bear! Show us the bear, Uncle Foggy!”

“I’ve never seen a bear up close,” Jayden said. 

“I think I hear your mother calling,” Foggy said, taking another cookie and putting the jar away. 

Unfortunately, Candace had come into the kitchen just then. “Aw, come on, show them the bear, Foggy. They’ll love it. The biggest thing Chris can shift into is a badger.”

“Daddy Badger is so cute!” Emma cried.

Foggy sighed, wondering if he could race into his parents’ bedroom, leap out the window and slide down the fire escape, but he’d left his coat and his bag in the front hall, so he’d have to slink back sometime and get them. It probably wouldn’t be worth it.

“Come on, Foggy Bear, please? Just once for the kids. We hardly ever see you anymore,” Candace urged.

“Foggy Bear!” Jayden was delighted to learn a new nickname.

“I told you not to call me that,” Foggy hissed in a stage whisper, shooting his sister an angry glance as he went back into the living room. 

“I have to go home now, it’s time for me to hibernate,” Foggy said, making his parents both frown. But the kids had followed, and were now dancing around his legs. “Foggy Bear! Foggy Bear!”

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn into a bear, either,” Chris said.

“Yes, you did,” Foggy reminded him. “At your wedding reception.”

It was a clan tradition that everybody showed off their shapeshifting abilities at weddings and funerals. Foggy had tried to slip out, only to be dragged back inside and then totally humiliated by a well-meaning in-law who didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk, just uninformed.

“Uh, I don’t know if you remember, but Candace and I left the reception early?” Chris said. “Because, you know, wedding night! So come on, bro, what do you say?”

“I say I’m going to bite you all,” Foggy murmured, and cursed himself for being such a pushover. After shooing the kids to a safe distance so that he didn’t take them with him when he transformed, he knelt down reluctantly onto his hands and knees and shifted into his bear shape.

He hadn’t shifted since the wedding, because really, what was the point? Now he realized that being a bear, or rather, having a bear’s senses must be a lot like being his best friend, Matt. Matt had been blinded in an accident when he was nine, but the toxic chemicals that had taken away his sight had enhanced his other senses. He’d admitted to being able to hear heartbeats across a room, hear conversations going on several buildings away, and even smell whether Foggy had eaten onions for lunch up to forty eight hours earlier. 

Here, in the middle of his parents’ living room, Foggy realized for the first time that he could pick out any member of his family with his eyes closed, just by the their own unique scents, not even counting their shampoo, their body wash, or their laundry detergent. As a bear, he could also hear the next door neighbors punctuating a reality television show with pithy comments. One of them was particularly funny, and he wanted to laugh, but it came out as a bark instead.

And as a bear, he could also feel four little hands and one big one running up and down his back, stroking his fur. It felt nice, and if it hadn’t been his inquisitive little niece and nephew, he would want it to continue, and might even roll over for a belly rub. One hand strayed down his front leg and even touched his claws. Candace said, “Careful, Emma.”

“Can I sit on him?” Jayden asked, already taking a great handful of Foggy’s fur to pull himself up until he was straddling Foggy’s back. He even kicked Foggy in the ribs with his feet. “Giddy-up, Foggy-Bear! Giddy-up!”

Foggy was happy enough to give his younger relatives pony rides as himself, but not as a bear. He heaved a great whuffling bear-sigh and lowered himself flat to the floor, resting his muzzle on his front paws – and whoa, his parents really needed to get their carpet cleaned. Thankfully, Chris lifted his son away and told him not to do that again. Well, that was enough of that. Duty done, Foggy shifted back, then straightened up to his knees. 

“That was cool,” Chris said. “Wish I could turn into something that big. I’m working on a fox now.”

Foggy didn’t commiserate by reminding him that, even though he could turn into a big bear, it was the only animal he could shift into. The last he’d heard, Chris had mastered nine different ones. He really didn’t want to know that Chris was practicing a tenth, or what that animal was. He especially didn’t want Chris’s pity.

“I wanted a panda bear,” Emma said. “Panda bears are so cute! What kind of bear were you, Uncle Foggy?”

“Just a regular black bear,” he said, getting to his feet.

“You weren’t a black bear! You were yellow!” Jayden pointed out. 

“Black bears that are yellow are called blond,” Foggy said, pointedly not looking at Candace. He still remembered the insult she’d once thrown at him during a teenaged fit of anger, saying that his bear form looked like a long streak of piss. She’d apologized, and maybe she didn’t remember now, but he still remained sensitive about his colouring.

“There are black bears that are white, too,” Candace put in. “They’re called albino. Black bear is just the name of the kind of bear, not necessarily its colour.”

“When it comes to Foggy, I always say, blond hair, blond bear,” Foggy’s mom said brightly. Jayden liked the rhyme and began to repeat it. Foggy decided it was – marginally – better than hearing “Foggy Bear” over and over again. Still, it would have been nice to hear “Uncle Foggy is so cute!” instead.

“So, now you’ve seen the bear, now I really do need to go home. I’ve got lots of work to do for to-morrow.” That was a lie, but Foggy didn’t care. His family would never know. For all their ability to shapeshift into various animals, they couldn’t detect lies the way Matt could. At least, he didn’t think they could. 

“Nice to see you, everybody!” That was another lie that he didn’t care about. “Have a nice night!”

Everybody except his mother said good-bye, and Foggy’s dad helped move the conversation away from Foggy by asking, “Okay, kids, who wants to see Grandpa turn into an eagle?”

Foggy turned away from the squeals of delight, gathered up his stuff, and went out. Of course his mother followed him out into the hallway and gave him a big hug. “Thank you for being a good sport, Foggy. I know it’s hard for you, only being able to shift into one animal.”

Burying his face in his mother’s shoulder, Foggy made a resigned sound.

“I’m glad you haven’t lost your ability to shift altogether,” his mother went on. “I’ve been worried about that.”

“I wish I would,” Foggy admitted, letting go of his mom and looking away. “I mean, what’s the point? At least you and Dad can shift into dogs or cats or ferrets, and go outside for a walk, hunt rats, play with mice, or whatever you do. If I go outside as a bear, people would run away screaming, or try to shoot me. Or both. I can’t do anything as a bear. It’s a complete waste!“

“Well, you never know what might happen.” That was one of his mother’s favourite sayings and she applied it to almost every situation. Foggy did not think it applied here.

“I really don’t think the bears of Yellowstone Park are going to rise up and take over the world, with me as their supreme leader,” he said. “I also don’t think that being able to shift into a bear is going to help me survive the zombie apocalypse. And before you say one word about passing it on to the next generation, Mom, just don’t. You don’t even know if I can, or if my kids will end up as disabled as I am.”

“Foggy, you are not disabled,” his mother told him firmly. “And I wasn’t going to say anything except that I love you.”

“If you say “just the way you are,” I won’t come back,” Foggy threatened. 

“I wasn’t going to say that.” His mother pulled him in for another embrace. “I really was just going to say I love you, I’m proud of what you’ve achieved, and I want you to be happy, and that’s all that matters.”

“Aww, mom.” Foggy hugged her back. “I love you, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Foggy had turned off his phone before going to his parents, because that was a rule they insisted on, and didn’t remember to turn it back on until he was getting ready for bed later that night. Matt had called while he’d been at his parents, and had left a voice mail, but when Foggy clicked on it, it wasn’t Matt’s voice that he heard. 

“We know you have connections to Daredevil,” the man growled. “And we’ve got Murdock. So you tell Daredevil to give himself up or we’ll torture Murdock to death. Then we’ll come for you, and if he still doesn’t show up, it’ll be your family next. We’ll give you more instructions when you finally answer your fucking phone.”

There was also a picture of Matt, his face bruised and scraped, with the muzzle of a pistol visible at one ear. Foggy was still staring at it in horror when Matt’s ring tone went off, and he almost dropped the phone in surprise.

“Yes!” he responded. “Foggy Nelson here!”

“You talk to Daredevil yet?” Of course it was the man with the growly voice.

“Hang on, hang on, I just barely got your message,” Foggy admitted. “I haven’t had time to do anything yet!”

“Well, here’s another message,” the man said. There was a pause, and then he heard what sounded like the whine of a drill in the background. A moment later, Matt screamed high and loud, an agonized scream that made the hair on the back of Foggy’s neck stand up in horror. It went on and on and on until Foggy wanted to scream with him, and then it turned into loud sobbing and inarticulate begging.

“Got the message?” the man asked, much too calmly,and Foggy shouted back, “What are you doing to him?”

“Use your imagination,” the man said. “And pass the message onto Daredevil.”

“I will, I will,” Foggy babbled, before he realized what he was saying, and stopped.

“Tell Daredevil to meet us at the door to your office,” the man went on. “Quarter past midnight, or we hurt Murdock more.”

“What if I can’t find him?” Foggy almost wailed. “That’s less than two hours from now! He could be anywhere, and it’s not like I have his phone number!”

“Find him, or we torture Murdock to death, and then it will be your turn,” the man said, and hung up. 

Foggy tossed the phone onto his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. How could he get Matt out? The man hadn’t mentioned not calling the police, but even if he informed Brett unofficially, what could the man do? How could they find Matt before they killed him. G-d, he wished he’d put a GPS tracking chip in Matt the day he’d found out he was Daredevil!

Wait a minute. Tracking. He didn’t necessarily need an electronic device to do that, maybe he could do it the old fashioned way, with something a little more biological. Foggy reached for the phone and dialled.

“Hi, Dad, it’s me, Foggy. You know my friend, Matt? So, he’s been kidnapped, and I need your help.”

+++++

They met at Matt’s building. His parents had both transformed into birds – his father an eagle and his mother a hawk, and they’d landed on Matt’s roof even before Foggy had made it all the way there and up the stairs. 

“Foggy!” his mother called out as he staggered towards them, his knees weak after six flights of stairs. “Is Matt all right? Why did they take him, did they say?”

His father got right to the point. “Do they want a ransom? How much do you need?”

Foggy waved both hands in a “settle down” gesture and said, “They don’t want a ransom. They want Daredevil.”

“And you want us to find him?” his father asked, and glanced around the rooftop. “Is this where you last saw him?”

“No,” Foggy said. He went to the roof access door which Matt never locked, and opened it, then motioned for his parents to precede him inside. Once they were all down in Matt’s living room, he broke the news bluntly. “Matt is Daredevil.”

His mother gasped, and his father said simply, “What? Matt?”

“Yeah, Matt. You know those chemicals he got splashed in his eyes when he was a kid? The accident that blinded him? It seems they also enhanced his other senses. It’s like he’s got superpowers,” Foggy explained. “Super-hearing, super-smelling, super …”

He waved his hand, searching for the right word, and his mother helped him out. “Perception?” 

“Yeah, super-perception,” Foggy said. “And super kung fu training, and worst of all, this super sense of justice! I mean, being a lawyer just isn’t enough for Matt, he has to be a vigilante, too, get the people the law can’t touch, go out and stop crimes almost before they’re committed—“

He stopped, cutting his rant short. “Anyway, you see the problem. The kidnappers already have Daredevil and they just don’t know it yet. And they said they’re going to torture Matt to death if Daredevil doesn’t give himself up – and, uh—”

He didn’t want to tell his parents that the kidnappers would be coming for him next. Instead, he said, “And obviously, Matt hasn’t been able to get away, because I just heard them torturing him on the phone less than twenty minutes ago! We need to rescue him before they kill him! I brought you here so you can sniff his sheets and track him down.”

“Even with his scent, it’ll be difficult to track him if he was put in a car or a van,” his father said, and then he shifted into a yellow Labrador. His mother also turned into a dog, a grey and white whippet, and both dogs nosed around Matt’s bed for a few moments. Then his parents switched back to human form.

“Foggy, did you know that a bear’s sense of smell is about seven times more powerful than that of a dog?” his father asked. “Even a bloodhound?” 

Foggy frowned, because he’d kind of been avoiding the topic of bears for most of his life. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You really should get his scent, too,” his mother said. “We can go around the streets, but if Matt was taken away in a car or van, it’ll be almost impossible for us to follow.”

“I don’t know what good it would do. You guys can wander up and down the streets as dogs or cats or even skunks, and nobody will look twice at you. If I go out as a bear …” Foggy formed one hand into a pistol and made shooting motions at his own head.

“You never know what might happen,” his mother urged. “The sun’s gone down and it’s cold out there, you can probably find a dark alley or two for a quick shift, just long enough to point the way.”

Foggy sighed, shifted quickly into a bear, and nosed the sheets on Matt’s bed. The scent of Matt was incredibly powerful; he could not only follow the scent lines into the living room, the bathroom, and everywhere else Matt had gone, he could even, with a bit of consideration, sort them out according to how old they were. He was even strongly aware of Matt’s dirty clothes basket in the corner of the bedroom, but resisted going over to it. He didn’t want to have to admit to Matt that he’d found him by sniffing his dirty underwear. Anyway, the sheets alone were enough to make him want to gallop over to the door, claw it open, and race downstairs to the street outside, and he only stopped himself by remembering Matt’s neighbour across the landing.

He shifted back and looked at his parents. “Okay, Operation Matty-Hunt is on.”

They walked through the streets, Foggy trailing behind the dogs as they sniffed their way along. It felt weird, being out in public with his parents in their animal shapes; they usually did their shifting things on their own. Foggy shouldn’t have been surprised that Matt’s strongest scent lines led them to the office. When Foggy had left to go visit his parents, Matt had still been working. He must have been grabbed before he’d made it home and into his Daredevil suit. The two dogs went back and forth on the pavement in front of the building for what seemed like ages before his father went to the door that led inside. With a little whine, he lifted himself up on hind legs and pawed the metal screen. Foggy opened up and led the way into the dark hall. As soon as he’d shut the door behind them, his parents turned back into themselves.

“I think he was taken right about here,” his father said. “Anna?”

“I think so, too,” she said. “I could smell fear.”

“And?” Foggy asked, impatient.

“He must have got into a car,” his father said. “Foggy, how about you shift into your bear shape now?”

“Here?” Foggy glanced around. “What can I find out here?”

“I’ll open the door a bit and you can stick your nose out, see what you can pick up,” his father suggested. “We’ll keep watch, make sure nobody sees you.”

Foggy wasn’t sure he could escape detection, but it was the only way to find Matt, and so he shifted. His father opened the door just wide enough for him to put his muzzle out, and he sniffed. Oh, yeah, Matt had been here repeatedly, but the most recent scent line was practically decorated with fear , like tinsel hanging on a Christmas tree. Matt had walked a few steps in that direction … there’d been two men with him, one of them had come into the building, the other had waited outside … the scent lines all converged at the curb, where there’d been a car … 

Foggy was surprised that the car had left behind a distinct scent of its own; metal and paint and hot grease, and … what was that acrid note? It reminded him of something … a cleaning product … oh! Windshield washer fluid! There were drops in the street, not a full spray as though the driver had cleaned the windshield, but two drops underneath where the car had idled. The fluid had leaked out! He could follow the car just by those drops alone … there was a firm tug on the fur just behind his neck and his mother said, “Easy, Foggy, stay here.”

Pulling his muzzle back inside, Foggy sat down on his rump and shifted back.

“Sorry, Foggy,” his mother said. “You looked like you were about to lunge across the street.”

“I smelled the car,” Foggy said, standing up and brushing off his backside. “There’s windshield washer fluid leaking out of it, hopefully enough for you guys to follow!”

The trail of windshield washer fluid led in the general direction of the docks, and Foggy’s mom and dad dashed into the street every so often for a good sniff of the drops on the road. Whenever they came to an intersection, his parents split up automatically, with his mother going to the left and his father to the right, checking to see if the car had turned. Foggy supposed they must do something like that all the time, enough for it to become a habit. The car had kept going straight for a long time, but it had turned eventually. Finding the scent again, his mother came back and nuzzled at Foggy’s hand, biting it lightly and tugging him in the correct direction. Foggy followed, and a moment later, his father came loping up from behind.

They’d walked for approximately thirty five minutes when they found the car, parked in a rental lot. Foggy’s parents sniffed around, and Foggy had the distinct impression that they were both shaking their heads. He ducked into the dark space between two street lamps, glancing around. There was no one on the street, and hopefully, nobody would be looking out of their window at that particular moment, so he said, “Okay, Mom, Dad, you can—“

They took on human form before he could finish. “—Switch back now.”

“It’s not the right car,” his mother said. “There’s no scent of Matt here.”

“We’ve been following the wrong car all this time?” Foggy exclaimed in an angry hiss, trying to keep his voice low and show his annoyance at the same time. He wanted to kick something.

“We don’t know that,” his father said. “Look, there’s a place in that alley, you could shift quickly and tell us if we’re wrong.”

Foggy lumbered over to the dark spot, turned into a bear, and sniffed, turning his muzzle in every direction, just in case. But his parents were right, there was no scent of Matt, just the mocking odour of that blasted fluid.

“Argh!” he cried as he switched back to human form. “What’s the point? Matt could be dying out there while we’ve been following the wrong car just because it smelled the strongest!”

“We’ll just go back to the office and start over,” his mother said.


	3. Chapter 3

Gritting his teeth to keep from saying something he’d regret, Foggy walked along with them in silence for a few minutes, then thought to check his watch. “Oh, g-d, they’re expecting to Daredevil to be at the office in just about an hour, and if they see me instead of him, I don’t even want to think of what might happen!”

“Do they want to kidnap Daredevil, or just kill him?” his mother asked, and Foggy almost stumbled over his own feet. The thought of them assassinating Daredevil hadn’t occurred to him. “Shit, what if they’re setting up a sniper on a rooftop near the office right now, just waiting to take Daredevil out?”

“We could fly ahead and check,” his mother offered.

“Yeah,” said Foggy. “That might be best. Well, maybe just one of you.”

“Too bad I wanted to be a hawk, instead of an owl,” she said, “but I think I should be able to spot someone on a roof with a rifle. See you there.”

She assumed her hawk shape without even bothering to check if anyone were looking, and soared into the night air. Foggy watched her disappear until his father asked, “And what happens if Daredevil doesn‘t show up? They torture Matt to death, and then they, what? Come after you?”

“Yeah,” Foggy said. “I didn’t want to tell Mom, but yeah. That’s what they said.”

He didn’t mention the part where they’d threatened his family.

“I know you’ve spent years trying to deny it, but when it comes right down to it, you can be a big, strong bear,” his father said, placing his hand on Foggy’s shoulder. 

“So I should let them kidnap me, take me back to their secret lair, then turn into a bear when they least expect it, and claw them all to ribbons?” Foggy asked. 

His father was silent for a moment, and Foggy realized he was seriously considering the idea. “Dad!”

“Well, it’s not the worst plan in the world,” his father mused. “They definitely wouldn’t see it coming.”

“Because nobody expects the Spanish Bear Inquisition!” Foggy cried, but instead of laughing, his father simply said, “Yup.” 

“What if I kill somebody?” Foggy asked, more serious now. “I don’t know if I could live with myself after that.”

“Try not to,” his father advised. “You’re still mostly yourself when you shift, you know that. You can control your actions.”

“I’m not used to being a bear! It could happen by accident!”

“Then it would be an accident, and not deliberate,” his father said. “Go for their arms and legs. People can survive that … usually. And you’re not premeditating murder here. You’re just trying to rescue your best friend from people who are willing to torture and kill.”

Caught up in the ethics of being a bear, Foggy had temporarily forgotten Matt. Now he remembered Matt’s scream, and decided he’d do everything necessary to make sure that Matt never had to make a noise like that again.

Ahead of them, a hawk swooped into a dark alley, and a moment later, Foggy’s mother walked out. She came towards them and announced, “All clear as far as I could see.”

“It’s not midnight yet,” Foggy said, but it was still a relief to know that there wasn’t a bullet out there with Matt’s name on it. Yet.

“Did you speak to the kidnappers, or did they leave a message?” his mother asked. “What exactly did they say?”

Foggy thought back to the conversation. “They said … tell Daredevil to meet us at the door to your office.”

“Meet us,” his mother repeated. “So if they mean what they say, there will be at least one person there.”

“Probably more than one,” Foggy said, “and they’ll all have guns, too. Or even a hostage. If they want to kidnap Daredevil, I mean. They could just want to shoot him there.”

“If they just wanted to shoot him, wouldn’t it be easier to just camp out somewhere where Daredevil’s been seen before, and wait for him to show up again?” his father asked. “Instead of going to all this trouble to kidnap and torture somebody in the hopes of making Daredevil give himself up? Seems like a lot of unnecessary work to me.”

“How would I know?” Foggy said. “I might be a lawyer, but I’m not an evil overlord. I don’t even have a criminal mindset! Well, not much of one, anyway. Not more than anybody else. Any normal, mostly law-abiding citizen-body.”

“All those elaborate plots only happen in books and movies,” his mother said. “So I think we can make a reasonable assumption that they want to kidnap Daredevil and not just kill him. It’s probably best if your father and I make ourselves inconspicuous and just watch, see what happens. I could turn into a squirrel and hide inside your coat, Foggy, with just my head poking out of your collar there.”

“And if they shoot me, the bullet goes right through you?” Foggy was aghast. “No way, Mom! Be a hawk, get up high. Nobody ever looks up, you’ll be safe up there!”

“Don’t you ‘safe’ me, young man,” his mother ordered. “I will turn into a hawk, but only because I can watch what’s going on from up there, not so I won’t get hurt. Team Nelson is in this together.”

“If they come in a car, I could turn into a skunk and spray one of the wheels,” his father said. “That’ll help us follow it if they take you instead of Daredevil.”

“That’s a good idea! Eyes up high, nose on the ground, and together we’ll get the bastards,” his mother said. 

“I think you forgot the Foggy-in-the-middle part,” Foggy protested.

“Don’t forget, you’ve got skills, too,” his mother said. “Bear fur and bear skin are both very thick. You could almost think of it as armour.”

“Not completely bulletproof, though,” his father put in, and Foggy said, “Thanks, Dad.”

“But did you know that bears can bite down so hard that they can crush bones?” his mother went on. “And don’t forget your claws.”

“Claws and jaws, got it,” Foggy said. “A beary particular set of skills.”

“By Jove, I think he’s got it!” his mother exclaimed, and Foggy and his father both murmured, “Wrong film.”

When they arrived at the right block, his father transformed into a skunk, then ran by Foggy, shot under a nearby car, and crouched beside one of the back wheels. Foggy also heard the flap of mighty wings as his mother lifted off, and though he didn’t see where she went, he guessed it would be nearby, perhaps one of the buildings across the street where she could keep an eye on him. Approaching the door of their office building, he glanced up and down the road, and even went around the corner for a look. He could hardly transform into a bear here on the street, which made him wish he had a bullet-proof vest. And a bullet-proof helmet. And bullet-proof underwear. 

But it was probably best to go around to the alley and let himself into the building through the back door. Instead of standing around and making himself a target for a drive-by shooting, he could wait inside. He took up position next to the front door and kept an eye on his watch, listening to the traffic outside, and tried to think of what to say if the kidnappers actually showed up. He wasn’t sure he could convince them to let Matt go and take him instead, even with the debate skills that had served him well in law school. It was too depressingly possible that they’d simply grab him as well and send the next demand for Daredevil to Karen. Karen! He should have told his parents how to get in touch with her, just in case, but now it was too late.

Eventually, his watch showed that it was 12.15, and Foggy opened the door a crack and looked out. At first, all was silent, except for the occasional car driving by. There weren’t any pedestrians at this time of night, not even the homeless. Then a black SUV pulled up to the curb and a man got out, holding a machine gun and bringing it up to point right at Foggy.

“Stop hiding and come out,” he said in a slight accent that Foggy couldn’t place. He was wearing a sweatshirt under his jacket with the hood pulled up, and a facemask with eye and mouth holes under that.

Foggy felt a flash of terror at the machine gun, but thought of Matt, and his parents, and pulled the door open so that he could step out. He didn’t exactly raise his hands, but he kept them visible in front of him.

“I couldn’t find Daredevil,” he admitted. “I looked and looked, but maybe he’s taking the night off. Maybe he’s up at Avengers Tower hanging out with other superheroes for the night. Or maybe he got hurt and he’s dying in a dumpster somewhere.”

“Well, guess we’ll have to take you, then,” the man growled. 

Foggy hesitated and glanced over to the car where his father was hiding, but couldn’t see him, or even any movement. In that split second, the man lifted the machine gun and hit him in the side of the head. It wasn’t quite enough to knock him out, but more than enough to knock him silly. He fell to the ground, unable to get up again, and not even able to think about resisting when the man tied his hands together. He was vaguely aware of the man pulling something over his head to cover his face, felt the man pull him more or less upright and practically drag him over to the SUV. Foggy sagged against the side of the vehicle, almost collapsing to the curb as the man opened the back. The man heaved Foggy upright and tossed him in, lifting his legs and trying to stuff them in, too. It wasn’t far enough. When he slammed the hatch down, it hit Foggy’s shin instead of latching shut, and Foggy discovered that he wasn’t too helpless to scream. The man tried again, finally got his leg inside with a little help from Foggy himself, then shut the back, went around to the side and got in.

The car pulled out and drove off, and after a moment, Foggy became aware of the scent of skunk spray. He was vaguely aware that that was a good thing, but for a long time, he couldn’t remember why. The men were talking, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. Eventually, however, his head cleared enough that he realized they were speaking a foreign language, and he could even pick out the fact that it was not Spanish. Or Punjabi. And … though that one was a stretch … probably not French, either.

And by the time he’d figured that out, the car had stopped and the doors were opening. Foggy was manhandled out of the back and onto his feet, which were slightly less shaky than before. Even through the hood on his face, the smell of skunk was strong enough to make his eyes water, and he wasn’t surprised when the man hustled him away as fast as he could go. He hoped his father had escaped being run over after he’d sprayed, and was even now following the scent.

They went inside a building that gave off an empty and cavernous vibe, then down a flight of metal steps into a slightly smaller area. Here, the man pushed Foggy down onto his knees and pulled the hood from his head.

He glanced around. They were in a large room with two other men sitting in chairs near a desk with an odd selection of tools, fast food, and drinks on it. The rest of the space was empty, except for a hole in one corner and what appeared to be some kind of bundle next to it. Foggy didn’t waste time examining more, simply demanded, “Where’s Matt?”

The man behind Foggy slapped him across the back of the head, and one of the men sitting down asked, “Where’s Daredevil?”

“I couldn’t find him!” Foggy protested. “I looked everywhere –”

The man interrupted him smoothly. “Well, obviously, you didn’t look everywhere, or you would have found him somewhere.”

“Everywhere I could look in the time that I had,” Foggy explained, making sure to sound desperate. “And if you guys let me go, I could keep looking!”

The man smiled a mirthless, shark-like smile. “Oh, no, you had your chance. Now you’ll have to hope that your secretary can do what you couldn’t. What was her name? Karen Page?”

He even rattled off Karen’s number, but Foggy wasn’t listening. Motion in the corner of the room had caught his eye; there was a ferret jumping back and forth close to the hole in the floor, running up on top of the bundle and racing down again, then circling around to the other side and back. After a moment, Foggy realized it was one of his parents, and they’d found Matt! He was down there!


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey, what is that animal?” the man behind Foggy asked, and Foggy transformed. He was a bit surprised to find his paws unbound when the shift was complete, but then, he could take his clothes and his shoes and even his watch with him when he changed, so why not the rope around his wrists? With only a moment’s hesitation, he turned to swat the machine gun from the man’s hand, and then raked his claws back and forth across whatever part of the man he could get. The room filled with screams, and Foggy turned to confront the other men. 

The ferret ran to the farthest corner, shifted back into his mother for one complete second, then transformed into a hawk, joining the fight with beak and talons. Foggy swiped and lashed out whever he could, defending himself from the guns the men were pointing at him. At least one of them went off, but although he heard the bang, he didn’t feel anything. He was close enough now to open his jaw wide and take one man’s shoulder in his mouth, biting down until he could taste blood and feel bones crack. He shook the man a time or two, pulling him around in a clumsy attempt at a human shield, then let him drop, hoping he was disabled enough to be out of the fight. His screams proved he was still alive, anyway.

One man was trying to get up the stairs. Foggy pounced, catching the man’s leg with his claws, then bit into his calf. There was another gunshot as the man brought up his weapon, and the bullet shot past Foggy’s ear, deafeningly loud. Foggy lunged higher, opened his jaws, and brought them down on the man’s arm, biting until the arm dangled loosely in his mouth. Letting go, Foggy cuffed the man across the face for good measure, then hooked the claws of one paw into the man’s side and pulled him down the steps.

Bullets spattered the ceiling, and Foggy belatedly remembered his mother. He turned around, only to see the hawk engaged in a tug-of-war with the man who had been driving the car, trying desperately to pull the machine gun out of his grip. Then his mother gave up and flew at the man’s face, sinking her talons into his eyes. Foggy pounced again, raking his claws down the man’s leg, then gripping his arm with his jaws and biting until the bones broke. The man screamed, slumping back, and Foggy went on to the next kidnapper. Despite the deep scratches that Foggy had given him earlier, the man was trying to make his way over his companions to get to the nearest gun. Foggy came in from behind and clamped his jaws shut on the back of the man’s neck, pulling him backwards. Eventually, the man went limp, and Foggy let go, fairly sure he was still breathing.

He stood there on all fours for a moment, surveying the room, but none of the men was doing anything more threatening than whimpering or moaning. His mother obviously didn’t sense any more danger, either, as she shifted back to her human form and moved over to the square opening in the corner of the room.

“I can smell Matt down here,” she said, and Foggy sniffed. Oh, yeah, there was Matt’s smell, very strong, very recent, and very heavy with fear and pain. Shifting back to human form as well, Foggy took one step towards her, then stopped. His mouth was full of blood and bits of something, and oh, g-d, he had human flesh in his mouth! He spit out as much as he could, gagging and trying not to swallow.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” he announced, running his tongue around his teeth and spitting more. But his stomach never quite heaved properly, and after a moment, he realized it wasn’t going to happen. He took a deep breath.

His mother went around where the desk had been knocked over, and produced a half-empty bottle of water. “Here, I saw this earlier.” 

Despite the fact that the rope around his hands was still there, Foggy reached out, took it gratefully, and rinsed his mouth again and again, spitting it out until the liquid was gone. The smell remained, though; there was blood all over the kidnappers and over much of the floor by now, too. When he’d finished, he dropped the bottle and extended his bound hands to his mother. “Thanks. And could you … ?”

His mother oblingingly turned into a squirrel, and Foggy knelt down so that she could gnaw on the rope. When she’d finished and had turned back into a human, they went over to look down the hole. Although it was light down there, he couldn’t see anything except the floor; no stairs and no visible way to get down. Then Foggy realized that the bundle on the other side of the opening was a rolled up rope ladder.

There was a sound at the top of the metal steps, and both Foggy and his mother glanced up in alarm. It was only Foggy’s father, though, leaping down the stairs in his Labrador form. When he saw them, he switched back to human. “Typical. I run all the way here, but I’m still too late. You both okay?”

“We’re fine,” said Foggy’s mother, and they took time for a quick hug.

“Well, damn, if I’d known you didn’t need my help following the car, I would have done an eagle instead,” Foggy’s father went on.

“I wasn’t expecting it to be that easy, and anyway, you just never know what might happen.”

“Can we get back to what’s important? Because Matt’s down here,” Foggy said, giving the bundle of rope a kick. It went over the edge and unrolled on its way down, hitting the floor with a metallic clang. Foggy thought he heard a faint cry, which could only be Matt, and practically threw himself onto the rungs.

It was like descending into an grain silo, with round metal walls at least twelve feet tall, a sloping metal roof with a lamp attached, and a metal floor. Matt was over to one side, flat on his back, but from where Foggy was looking, he didn’t seem to be restrained at all.

“Matt?” he asked, jumping down to the floor as soon as he got close enough. Above him, his father started down the ladder as well.

Matt turned his head slightly, but made no other movement. “Foggy?” His voice was rough. “Are you hurt? I smell blood.”

“It’s not mine, I’m not hurt.” Foggy came closer, wondering why Matt wasn’t getting up.

“Who’s there?” Matt asked before Foggy could say anything else. “Who’s with you?” 

“It’s my dad,” Foggy said, moving out of the way so that his father could step onto the floor. “He and my mom helped me find you. You okay, buddy, can you get up?”

“Hi, Mr Nelson,” Matt said. He breathed in carefully, then asked, “Can you cut the wires?”

Foggy glanced down to Matt’s leg, where his suit trousers had been cut away. There were two thick pieces of metal wire coming out through tiny holes in the metal walls, and each end of the wire had been cruelly jabbed into Matt’s leg. There’d been a lot of bleeding, more than Foggy would have expected from just wire, but tracks of blood ran down each side of his shin.

“Can’t we just pull them out?” Foggy asked, and reached for one. He’d barely touched it when Matt screamed, and his father pulled his hand away. The hair stood up on the back of Foggy’s neck when he realized that there was only one wire, and it had been threaded through a hole drilled horizontally through Matt’s shin. And what he’d taken for blood spots were other holes, some of them drilled straight down, some of them at an angle.

“Oh, g-d, Matt, I’m sorry,” he babbled, then shut up as he saw they’d done the same thing to Matt’s arm, just above the wrist.

“They were practicing on me … to see what would hold Daredevil,” Matt explained. 

“Is he okay?” his mother called down from the hole. “Do you need me to come down?”

“Anna, see if you can find a wire cutter up there!” Foggy’s father called back.

“I’m looking!”

“And call an ambulance!” Foggy added. 

In unison, both his father and Matt cried, “No!”

“We can drive him to the hospital ourselves,” Foggy’s father explained. “And then we won’t have to explain to the paramedics what happened,” he indicated the floor above with his thumb, “up there.”

Foggy felt the taste of blood in his mouth again and nodded silently. They waited until Foggy’s mother appeared at the top of the hole again. “I couldn’t find any wire cutters, just a power drill, a sledge hammer, and a hedge trimmer. You want the hedge trimmer?”

“No!” This time, it was all three of them together. Then Foggy’s father said, “See if you can find the keys to that SUV, Anna!”

“Okay,” she called back, and disappeared again.

“This hole in my leg is fairly close to the surface,” Matt said, gesturing a little with his good hand. “You could use the sledgehammer to break the bone … then cut the skin with the blade of the hedge trimmer … and pull the wire up and out.”

Foggy stared down at him in disgust and disbelief. “Matt, I am not performing caveman surgery on your leg – how can you even think that we’d – that’d be worse torture than what they did to you! You’d be crippled for life if we did that! Not to mention your arm – that’s your Braille hand, Matt!”

“They’re both my Braille hand,” Matt said. “But I can read with one hand if I need to.”

“Dad, would you excuse my friend here for being a sadistic masochist?” Foggy didn’t want to think about how much blood the blade of the hedge trimmer would cause, even if it wasn’t switched on, but even the slightly thought of blood made him run his tongue around his teeth again anyway.

“They must have a wire cutter somewhere,” his father mused, ignoring the squabbling because he was focusing on the construction of Matt’s restraints. “These wires lead out over there … there must be some kind of access to the other side of this thing. We just have to find it.”

“No, wait,” Foggy said, suddenly realizing something. “I can bite through the wires.”

“You don’t have to break your teeth because of me,” Matt said.

“Oh, and that’s different from me breaking your arm and leg, how?” Foggy shot back. “And anyway, guess what, _Daredevil_? I can turn into a bear.”

“Foggy?” his father asked, but Foggy waved away the implicit “what the hell are you doing?” and said, “Matt knows how to keep a secret, don’t you, _Daredevil_?”

Matt was silent, obviously trying to process the completely unexpected turn of events, and Foggy went on. “Everybody in my family can shapeshift. Even me, except usually I don’t. But this is an emergency, so don’t panic, but I’m going to turn into a bear now, and bite through those wires. I’ll try to be careful where I put my claws. It might hurt a bit, though, so be ready. Well, okay, it’ll probably hurt a lot. Maybe you’ll pass out, if you’re lucky.”

Taking Matt’s continued silence for assent, Foggy shifted, then placed his forepaws between Matt’s legs and lowered his head to the wire. It took him a few tries to find the right position for him to get hold of the wire, and he was aware of Matt trying not to scream, and clenching his good fist. Foggy moved his jaws until the wire was between his back molars, and bit down as hard as he could. The wire flattened, and for a moment he wasn’t sure it was going to work, but then it separated in his mouth. He opened his jaws and spit the pieces out, then backed away.

Matt was making a long, drawn-out “huhhhh” sound and Foggy switched back to human form.

“Dad, can you help me move him a bit? Otherwise I won’t be able to get to the wire on his arm without standing on him,” he said. “Okay, Matt, you think you can take it if we slide you over a bit?”

“Uh huh,” Matt replied through gritted teeth.

“Do you want to hold his leg while I pull? Matt, try to keep your other arm from moving,” his father said, and Foggy lifted Matt’s injured leg as carefully as he could. His father grabbed Matt by the arm and the waistband of his trousers and pulled. Matt made the involuntary sound again, and it rose in pitch as Foggy laid his leg down and took the opportunity to pull out the wire. It emerged soaked in blood, and he tossed it away in disgust.

“Sorry, buddy,” Foggy said. “I’m going to go for your arm now. I mean, the wire.”

“Uhhh,” said Matt. Foggy shifted into his bear shape and squeezed into the space between Matt’s arm and his body, then got his jaws around the wire and ground them together. Matt was screaming openly now, and Foggy resisted the impulse to lick his face. Instead, he switched back and patted Matt on the chest, then pulled on the long end of the wire until it came out of Matt’s wrist.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I posted this over at FFN a while back, I got a ~~drive-by shooting~~ a guest comment that said the medical parts of the story were "highly unrealistic" and hard to read because of that. But because it was a guest comment, there was no way for me to contact the person, who obviously had advanced medical knowledge that I could have tapped into to revise this story and make it better. So I beg you to forgive me for any and all medical inaccuracies in this part, and I hope you can enjoy the story nonetheless.

“Okay, all done,” Foggy announced as soon as Matt’s screams died away into a whimper and then silence. “Now we can get you out of here and into the hospital.”

“Uhh,” Matt said again, but then he whispered, ”You really … smell … like a bear.”

“Good thing he’s a strong bear,” Foggy’s father said. “Because he’s going to have to carry you up that ladder.”

Foggy hadn’t thought of that, and looked at the ropes in dismay. Next to him, Matt tried to sit up, cradling his injured arm to his chest. He was trembling visibly, perhaps from cold, definitely from shock.

“Fireman’s lift, I think,” his father went on. “It’s the only way.”

“Guess you’re right,” Foggy said with a sigh. “Sorry, Matt. This is going to hurt. Again.”

“I found the keys!” his mother called out, and his father called back, “Great! We’ll be right there!”

To Foggy, he said, “You want me to hold the ladder when you go up?”

“Yeah,” said Foggy. “Yeah, that might help. Okay, Matt, here we go.”

Foggy had never before thought about the fact that bears don’t have thumbs, which made it awkward for him to get Matt up and over what passed for shoulders on a bear, or to keep him from sliding down Foggy’s back, all without using his claws. His father’s assistance also wasn’t exactly a big help, but eventually, they managed. Thankfully, Matt had gone limp by then, finally passing out from the pain, and Foggy was relieved as he walked over to the ladder on his hind legs. His father held the ladder from behind, and Foggy started to climb. It was difficult; his bear legs were shorter than his human legs, which meant having to stretch to reach the next rung, and he could only use one of his front paws because the other was trying to keep a grip on Matt’s good arm. 

The climb seemed to take forever, and of course Matt woke up before they reached the top and started making that horrible “uhhhh” sound again. Foggy winced every time he heard it. When he could finally stick his head up through the hole, he found that he also had to do some fancy maneuvering to get both himself and Matt up through the opening, but at last they had reached the floor above. Still clutching Matt around his neck and shoulders, Foggy moved away from the ladder on three limbs, but although he found it was easier for himself, Matt was threatening to slip off sideways, so he had to stand upright again. He didn’t switch back until they were right outside the SUV, despite the skunk stench that made him feel as though he’d had his muzzle right in the skunk’s glands when it had sprayed. The smell was only marginally better when his nose became human.

“Hi … Mrs Nelson,” Matt murmured. His voice was weak and shaky.

“Hello, Matt.” His mother had opened the back door, and Foggy did his best to get Matt into the vehicle without hurting him too much. At last, Matt was on the back seat, and Foggy leaned against the side of the SUV, suddenly exhausted. His head ached ferociously, too, though he hadn’t noticed it in the heat of battle.

“Foggy?” Matt asked.

“I’m here, buddy,” Foggy said. He really should straighten up and get into the car so they could go to the hospital, but he just … needed a moment.

“This car stinks … like skunk. Makes me … feel sick.”

“Yeah, that’s my dad. Not that he usually stinks like one, I mean. He turned into a skunk. While we were trying to find you.”

“Uhh …” Well, at least it wasn’t the silent reaction that had met Foggy’s bear announcement.

“He sprayed the car so that we could follow the scent.”

“Uhh …” Matt said again.

“It’s complicated. We’ll talk about it later,” Foggy said. Matt was certainly taking it better than Foggy had reacted when Matt’s secret life as Daredevil had been revealed. Okay, so Matt was half dead right now and not in any condition to make much of a protest. But then, Foggy hadn’t been sneaking out every night to turn into a bear and fight crime, then limping home with various injuries, forever running the risk of being arrested as a vigilante and bringing his friends down with him. He hadn’t even thought of his shifting ability when he’d confronted Matt about secrets; he’d actually spent most of his life trying to repress it, or at least ignore it. 

In the midst of his ruminations, Foggy’s stomach rumbled, and he felt suddenly and inexplicably ravenous. Thankfully, just then, his father came out of the warehouse. “Anna, gimme the keys, I’ll drive. Foggy, you just gonna stand around there while your best friend bleeds to death?”

“I’m not bleeding,” Matt started to say, and Foggy gave him a little poke in the arm that made him quickly add, ”that much.”

“Coming,” Foggy mumbled, and staggered around to the other side of the vehicle. Once he was inside, he put his elbow on the armrest, leaned his head on his hand, and shut his eyes. He was dreaming about macaroni and cheese, potato salad, even coleslaw when the door on his side opened without warning and startled him awake.

“We’re at the hospital,” his mother said. “Think you can help me get Matt inside? Your father’s going to park this car and come back with ours.”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Foggy said. What was he doing, falling asleep when Matt was hurt? The brief nap had helped his exhaustion, but only a little, and he felt clumsy and off-balance as he climbed out and went around to help Matt out. Instead of a fireman’s lift, which he didn’t think he could manage again, even as a bear, he settled for slinging his best friend’s good arm over his shoulders, and holding him around the waist. On the way in, however, he tripped on a step. Matt put his leg down automatically to catch himself, then all but collapsed with a cry of pain.

“Oh, shit, buddy, I’m sorry!” Foggy cried, flailing for balance to keep both of them from going down. “You okay? Did I make things worse? I made things worse, didn’t I?”

“It’s just … a crack,” Matt gasped, obviously trying to play it down, which made Foggy feel even worse.

Inside the emergency room, a nurse got them a wheelchair for Matt. Foggy lowered Matt gratefully into it as the nurse asked, “What happened?”

“My partner was kidnapped and tortured!” Foggy replied. “They drilled holes in his arm and leg, right through the bone!”

“Do you need me to call the police?” she asked, checking the wounds. Foggy glanced down, too, and was horrified to note that new trickles of blood were running out of some of the holes in Matt’s leg.

“I know an officer at the precinct, I’ll call him later,” Foggy said. His stomach growled again, and was it just his imagination or was he starting to feel faint? “I just want to make sure Matt’s all right first.”

“I’ll get you the forms to fill out,” the nurse said, went away, and returned a minute later with the promised paperwork. Foggy took the clipboard with a sigh and handed it to his mother, then wheeled Matt around to a space in the waiting room in front of two empty chairs. 

“Do you think there’s anything to eat around here?” Foggy asked as he slumped down. “I can’t believe I’m so hungry!”

“You’ve used up a lot of energy, shifting … things … around that you’re not used to shifting,” his mother said. “I’ll go see what I can find.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Foggy sighed, and got to work filling out the forms. The nurse returned with a quick bandage for Matt’s leg, and adjusted the footrest so that it was horizontal, then went away again with vague assurances that it wouldn’t be long before a doctor could see him.

Several minutes later, after Foggy had finished with the forms, his mother came back with sandwiches and juice from a vending machine. Foggy practically inhaled them, and it was only when he’d finished that he remembered his friend. “Hey, Matt, you want something?”

“No, thanks.” After a moment, Matt added, “It’s better if I don’t eat … if they have to do surgery.”

“Surgery?” Foggy almost choked on the last swallow of juice. “Matt, what else is wrong with you? Usually, you’re all “I’ve just cracked every bone in my body, but I’m fine, don’t worry, I can still tap dance,” and now you’re talking about surgery?”

“I can’t tap dance,” Matt replied, and Foggy wanted to hit him.

“That was just an example, buddy! But seriously, what else did they do to you?” 

“They didn’t … do anything else. Just … the drill. But I can’t put any weight … on my leg … and I can feel … it’s not good.”

“So when you say, “it’s just cracked,” you mean, it’s really shattered?”

“Um … maybe not _shattered_ …”

“Oh, Matt,” Foggy’s mother sighed. She took his good hand in both of hers and just held it. To Foggy’s surprise, Matt screwed up his face and swallowed hard, as though trying not to cry. 

“Mr Murdock?” called the nurse. “Matthew Murdock?”

“That’s you, buddy,” Foggy said, standing up and reaching for the handles of the wheelchair. “Want me to come with you?”

“Yeah,” Matt choked out. “Please.”

In the end, it turned out that the bone in Matt’s leg was not shattered, only cracked. To be sure, it was a rather large and deep crack, right along the top of one of the drill holes, but it didn’t count as a complete fracture because it didn’t go all the way through. The other drill holes were more numerous than Foggy had expected, and the doctors debated for some time whether to put a cast on Matt’s leg, or just a splint, like his arm.

“Yes, put him in a cast,” Foggy said. “A full body cast, from neck to toe, otherwise he’ll jump out of bed to-morrow and start tap dancing again.”

The doctors gave him curious looks, but he didn’t care. Somebody had to protect Matt from himself.

“Boxing, Foggy … it’s boxing,” Matt corrected him, then added, “Please … no cast. My skin is so … sensitive. And I won’t start … boxing again … for at least a week.”

“A week? Say ten days, and we’ve got a deal,” Foggy conceded. “And boxing, tap dancing, what’s the difference? Just a few extra arm movements, that’s all.”

The doctors grinned. Matt just looked pained. 

In the end, they decided that a splint would do the job, along with a stern warning for Matt to keep his weight off his leg as much as possible for at least two weeks. Matt also managed to convince them that he didn’t need to stay in the hospital and couldn’t afford it anyway, whereupon Foggy offered to swipe a bedpan for him on the way out. One of the doctors laughed and commented on the good idea, but Matt merely frowned disapprovingly. Foggy ignored it. Matt also got a prescription for antibiotics to ward off any possible infection from dirty drill bits, and the doctors told him to have his regular health care provider check both his leg and his arm in two days, just to make sure. Then the doctors prescribed potent painkillers that Foggy knew Matt would never willingly swallow, and finally, everything was finished and they were ready to go.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting, everybody! Hope you enjoy the ending.

Foggy’s mother and father met them in the waiting room, and as Foggy pushed Matt’s wheelchair towards the exit, his mother said, “Matt, don’t worry about the bill, we’re having it sent to us.”

“Oh, Mrs Nelson, no, you can’t …” Matt tried to protest.

“I don’t think you’re in any shape to say no,” Foggy’s father put in, the tone of his voice exaggeratedly jovial.

“And not only that, but you’re coming over to our place for as long as you need,” Foggy’s mother announced. They went through the door and down the outside ramp. Foggy wished he’d noticed it when he was trying to drag Matt up the steps.

“Good idea!” Foggy said. “The doctors said for him to keep the weight off his leg for at least three weeks.”

“Two weeks, Foggy, they said two weeks.” Matt tried again. “And I don’t want to … inconvenience you.”

“You could only inconvenience us if you asked us to carry you up the six flights of stairs to your apartment,” Foggy’s father said. 

“Or the three flights to mine,” Foggy put in. They crossed the street to the hospital parking lot.

“We only have to carry you up one flight to our apartment,” Foggy’s father pointed out. “Much easier.” 

“And we’ve got a couch that folds out into a bed. It won’t be inconvenient at all. So that’s settled.” Foggy’s mother smiled.

“And I’ll come visit you every day after work,” Foggy put in. His stomach growled again. It had been a long time since those sandwiches, and they’d only been a drop in the bucket. “If I time it right, I can get there for supper most days.”

“Foggy!” Matt protested, even as his parents laughed. Then Matt went on, “You’ll probably be working late … every night if I’m not there.”

“We can hook you up on Skype,” Foggy said. “You won’t have to miss much.”

“Looks like … I’m overruled,” Matt said.

“Face it, Matt,” Foggy said. “In this argument, you just don’t have a leg to stand on.”

+++++

As he’d been awake all night, Foggy left a message on Karen’s phone that he wouldn’t be in the office until after lunch. When he got to work, he told her the official version of the story, the one he’d reported to Officer Brett Mahoney at the precinct: Matt had been kidnapped, but had managed to escape despite the injuries to his leg, maybe with a little help from Daredevil – he wasn’t sure - and had contacted Foggy, who’d found him and taken him to the hospital. Foggy didn’t mention the warehouse or the kidnappers to either Brett or Karen; he felt himself becoming more like Daredevil in that respect, not wanting to kill outright, but also having no qualms about leaving injured bad guys to fend for themselves. Well, maybe just a few qualms. 

Karen accompanied Foggy to Matt’s apartment to pick up things that Matt would need, and they had a pleasant, if quick visit at Foggy’s parents. Somehow, Foggy’s mother had managed to get Matt to take one of the painkillers that morning, and he was still a bit groggy after sleeping most of the day. It was also obvious that Foggy’s mother was doing everything she could for Matt, and once, Foggy caught sight of a wistful, longing look on Karen’s face. During the walk on the way home, she confided that she’d felt a bit left out, not being able to help at all. Foggy tried to reassure her that, while his mother could care confidently for Matt, she could hardly keep their practice running the way that Karen did. It seemed to help, or at least it made her smile.

The next day, Foggy went over alone. It was a Friday, and he was planning on waiting until Monday or maybe even Tuesday before letting Matt have a Skype connection to the office. He was still thinking about it when he opened the door and let himself in. The apartment was very quiet, but there was an inviting scent of cooking food coming from the kitchen. Matt was sitting up on the sofa bed, his splinted leg on a pile of pillows, and a purring cat on his lap which he was stroking … a purring _cat?_

“Mom!” Foggy cried. “What are you doing?”

The cat lifted her head and glanced over, looking about as annoyed as a cat could look. Then she jumped off Matt’s lap, landed on the floor, and shifted back to her human self.

“Hello, Foggy, did you have a nice day at the office?” she asked casually. “Your father called, he’ll be working late at the hardware store.”

“Mom!”

“I was just helping Matt meditate,” she replied. 

“Oh, is that what they call it these days?” he shot back.

“Franklin Patrick Nelson,” his mother said in her most forbidding voice. “Get your mind out of that gutter. I might be able to shapeshift into a cat, but I am definitely not a cougar.”

“I like the purring,” Matt said. “It helps me relax.”

“Well, then, we’ll get you a real cat, and not my mom!”

“She was showing me all the other animals she could shift into,” Matt said. “The ferret was kind of fun, too.”

“Perhaps a little too energetic for you,” Foggy’s mother said. “I just can’t help doing that little war dance because I always want to play when I’m a ferret.”

“I’m sure I’ll appreciate it better next week,” Matt said. “You’d better check the oven. I think that casserole is done.”

Foggy’s mother glanced at her watch. “You’re right! Well smelled!” 

She went into the kitchen and Matt said, “Sorry, Foggy.”

Foggy sank down into the nearest armchair with a sigh. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. It’s just weird, you know? I’ve never seen her do that with anybody but family. Though I guess you’re kind of family now. My parents seem to have adopted you, anyway.”

Matt smiled politely. “She told me she used to be a cat with you, when you were younger. And turn into a dog, too, so you could play fetch.”

“Yeah.” Foggy remembered those times, back before he’d started rejecting anything to do with shapeshifting. “That was a long time ago. So … um … you’re okay with all of this?”

“I thought I was dreaming, except for the smells,” Matt admitted. “I’ve never dreamed in smell before. But your mother and I talked, and she helped me understand a lot of it.”

“Oh, damn, I should have been there, I should have been the one to explain it,” Foggy moaned.

“As I recall, your father had to drive you home because you were so exhausted after everything,” Matt said, then he smiled a little. “But, yeah, I guess I’m okay. It just, you know, took a little getting used to.”

“Foggy, I could use some extra hands in here!” his mother called out, and to Foggy’s surprise, Matt called back, “Can’t you turn into an octopus, Mrs Nelson?”

She laughed out loud, which she probably would not have done had Foggy made the remark, but Foggy still smiled as he heaved himself out of the armchair. “Coming!”

His mother had arranged a laptray for Matt with his supper on it, and when he came to the door of the kitchen, she handed it to him. “Careful, don’t spill.”

“Since when do we have laptrays?” Foggy asked. “Man, all those times I could have had breakfast in bed!”

“I just bought them this morning,” his mother replied. “And they are definitely not for breakfast in bed. Except for Matt. And if I can convince your father to get up early on Mother’s Day.”

Matt was grinning when Foggy brought him his food and settled the tray in his lap, then described the plate. “Okay, we have a glass of juice at one o’clock, a fork at three o’clock, and casserole at … every o’clock.” 

“It smells really good, Mrs Nelson,” Matt said as Foggy got his own plate and sat down at the table that had been pushed over to one side to make room for the sofa bed.

“Thank you, Matt,” Foggy’s mother replied, smiling.

“Tastes really good, too,” Foggy said, before he took his first bite. Then he realized, “Wait – Mom, this tastes different than what you usually make.”

“Matt suggested a different kind of cheese,” his mother replied. “And he was right, it actually tastes better.”

Foggy began to have an inkling of how Karen could feel left out.

They ate the casserole, had cream pie for dessert, and Foggy helped his mother wash up the dishes. When that was done, his mother went off to her bedroom to watch tv without bothering Matt, and Foggy returned to the living room. He was just about to ask Matt what he wanted to do all evening when there was a buzzing sound from the apartment above, and Matt suddenly caught his breath.

“Matt?” Foggy asked. His friend had broken out in a sweat, his face was white, and he’d clenched his good hand into a fist. The buzzing sound came again, and Foggy recognized it even before Matt gasped out, “Drill!”

“Oh, g-d, yeah! You want me to go upstairs and tell them to knock it off?”

“No … they’re probably just hanging a picture,” Matt replied, obviously trying very hard to sound casual and not choked.

The buzzing sound came a third time, and Foggy said, “Or they’re going to be doing do-it-yourself all evening. That’s it, I’m going to tell them I’ve got somebody down here with PTSD.”

“No!” Matt cried. “No, Foggy, please, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Matt. You’re not okay. If I could hear your heart, I’d probably hear palpitations.”

“My heart isn’t … it’s just … pounding,” Matt admitted. Then he said, “Foggy, I know your mom said you don’t like shapeshifting, but would you …?”

“Would I what?” Foggy asked. “I can’t turn into a cat and purr at you. Did my mom tell you that, too?”

“Would you turn into a bear?” Matt asked, his voice small and very hesitant. The buzzing came again, and the expression on Matt’s face made Foggy shift immediately into his bear shape and crawl up the empty half of the sofa bed. As soon as he’d settled down at Matt’s side, snuggling close so that they were touching, Matt put out his good hand and rested it on Foggy’s neck. Foggy responded by reaching out a paw and laying it on Matt’s thigh. When the drill buzzed again, Matt’s good hand gripped a handful of fur, and he laid his injured hand on Foggy’s paw, his fingers digging into the fur there as well. 

They waited like that for a long time, but there was no more buzzing. Matt relaxed eventually, and began to explore Foggy’s head with his good hand, delicately feeling his ears, eyes, and nose. When his hand got close enough, Foggy gave his fingers a little lick, and Matt laughed softly, just as he’d hoped.

“And to think that all this time,” Matt said, even as the drill started up again, “I thought I had to keep _you_ safe.” 

And maybe all this time, Foggy thought, he’d been wrong to believe that his shifting abilities were worthless because he couldn’t change into ten different animals. He nuzzled Matt’s hand and decided that maybe, just maybe, his bear shape was enough.


End file.
